nunca jamás.... nunca

I should have done this the other way around, but here is the list of things I won't miss here in El Salvador.  I think it's a pretty reasonable list. Fair. I felt my skin flush with a couple of them. All in all, I love El Salvador, but there are just some things I can't wrap my open-mind or patience around. Little nags, and big issues. All part of the experience.

And just for the record, 23 days till the Central American Farewell Tour begins. Maybe we should get some shirts made up.

• Getting el gripe. I have been pretty fortunate when it comes to the number of tummy problems I've had in ES, I have been strangely unfortunate when it comes to constant, lingering colds.
• Roosters. Only good for screaming at.
• Thick, smooshy tortillas.
• Boquitas Diana. They're NEVER as good as you want them to be.
• People spitting on the bus, or your floor, or anywhere.
• Foot soup. It's tasty till you get the foot... or the heart, or kidneys.
• Litter
• Tamales
• Kolachampan
• Cipro
• Going to mass. As a non-believer, I have respectfully sat through so many masses and bible studies than I did through the first 22 years of my life. Por mi culpa, por mi culpa, por mi gran culpa.
• 80's music and the tinny stereos it's blasted on
• Running into english speaking deportees who trick you into responding and will not leave you alone. 
• hair gel
• reading the daily Cifra in the newspaper
• Wet ceramic tile
• Insane sidewalks
• Pilsener beer
• bad judgement
• the PCV bubble
• tourists that make all gringos look reaaalll bad
• catcalls
• Lack of "indoor voices"
• Jaime's clipart
• boiling all my drinking water
• Eastern Terminal
• those candy vendors on the bus who place the candy on you, even when you do your best to not let them. They always find a way. Pro.
• The "grab both handles by the door" move.
• mosquitoes
• "less than successful" bus rides
• racism
• machismo
• rose-scented toilet paper
• being asked if I'm "Barca" or "Real" almost daily.  Don't care. Don't watch soccer. No TV, less interest.
• constantly smelling like wood smoke
• a persistent sweat mustache when I hit warmer regions
• panzas. Mine, his, hers, theirs. All of them.
• burning plastic
• getting creepy text messages from my lobo hostbrother
• Not having a word in spanish that means creepy. 
• The best option for pizza is Pizza Hut.
• Jalisco hot sauce
• perpetually dirty feet
• buying phone time by the dollar
• Spending tons of money and energy on velas and cajas and monthly dinners on the death anniversary, yet letting kids grow up with no idea when their birthdays are because it's never celebrated. (Unless she's a girl and she turns 15, in which case you'll spend all of everyone's money on the quincenera and then have none to keep her in school...) Just saying.
• bolos
• spoiled sons
• Bus preachers. Always screaming about the lord.
• Nasal singing. 
• The shameless interchangeability of the letters B and V. Botar and Votar are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS!!! Side note to the bicho who spray painted "Rebolution!!" on the curb outside of the village. I roll my eyes every time I pass, may your uprising fail.
• Standing out like a 5 foot 7 inch, fair skinned, green eyed monster.
• the crunchy texture my hair has taken on
• People in the US asking me how things are "south of the equator." Because I have no idea.
• going inside and ending each day when the sun goes down.
• street dogs
• cockroaches
• being proposed to by visa seeking strangers, or their wives
• being asked to give all my things to cualquier fulano.
• Being on a micro when it breaks down
• the non-existence of sarcasm 
• soccer

And a Bonus Video to boot. To be fair, its pretty boring, but I've been thinking a lot about my Kids back in El Cocalito, and missing them. Sometimes you have to take a walk down memory lane. Here's a quick clip of Dan Clarahan teaching the kiddos some karate at the school. We finished with a lesson on bow throwing into a punching bag. It was pretty great.

The beginning of the end

I need to start eating with a fork, I need to not talk about gastrointestinal issues, I need to learn to talk about things that have nothing to do with El Salvador or Peace Corps. These things are not interesting to anyone outside of my friends here.

More seriously, I have been out of the US culture for the last 2 years. No tv, sporadic internet, spanish language radio, no social life outside of a few gringos and my community. This might sound melodramatic... but that's kind of a horrifying prospect. Diving headfirst into all of this, even though it will also be great, is scary. People find PC interesting for about 4 minutes, and rightfully so. El Sal has been my life, and I have little more to talk about.

We live in a little bubble here, and in some ways, defend it's borders. Due to our need to immerse ourselves in the Salvadoran culture and push away things American, we never have to confront the problem. However, a few weeks ago, I spent time with non PCV gringos, and the realization hit me.

I've become a little socially stunted.

On the plus side, I'm really looking forward to having new conversations. Throughout these last 2 years I've been reusing conversations, jokes and interactions with Salvadorans in the campo. For my part, I always privately blush when I re-use a joke with a second group of people in the US. Contrived. Here, it's just a part of immersion. You use whatever technique you can to get people to laugh, to interact, to like you. It's a cheap, useful, and fuerte tool.

You know how many times I've had the same conversation about mitos and frijoles and las lluvias? Igualito. Down  to the punchline. Exactly. The. Same.

Cheap. Socially cheap.

I guess on the plus side, my absolute ignorance of basically everything will hopefully lead to some kind of conversation... I'll be schooled. Hopefully, I'll at least have the pleasure of having good tasting microbrews on the table while I learn the ways of the new world.

THREE!

Ladies and Gents, I have less than three months left in El Salvador. Sweet baby Jesus. I hit the 3 month mark while floating with a liter beer in a pool at Playa Tunco. If that isn't best way to recollect that I have to take these three months by storm, I absolutely don't know what is. I'll keep the thoughtful, emotional reflections for later, when I assume I will feel them... for now, I'm counting down and soaking it all in.

Next week I have my final visit from my Jefa, Clelia. After that I plan on going down to La Barra de Santiago to spend Christmas on the beach with my Salvadoran family (Milena, Ben, Mi Comadre and all the kids) I guess I do already feel this sad reality. It will probably be the last time I ever see them, and I will miss them so so much.

But anyway...

Since my last post El Zarzal has been a hopping place. A week and a half of constant, depressing rain, Fiestas Patronales, weddings, baptisms, and Gringo visitors.

I don't have much to say about any of that because, as I do, I waited too long to post and none of it seems terribly interesting now. Besides, I have the sneaking suspicion that while few people view my blog page, even fewer do more than scan the photos. So I added some photos I never got around to editing of the "Baile de los Viejos" from our fiestas. Everybody wins!

Chepito and Tita

Don Jesus defending the baby from zombie attack.

My neighbors

Where did they find these masks?

And finally, Andrea in her first communion outfit. Got her to smile. :)